"These daggers are wands, they inflict damage on living beings that they touch. I don't think any of us can reliably activate them, but I can probably get them to work about half the time," Nexander says, tucking the wooden "daggers" into his sash. "This is some kind of potion as well, but I'm not sure what it does yet. Anyone else know about this stuff?" he asks, offering the vial of red liquid for examination.
Gi'chak listens to Pinkerton's explanation of the coin's origins, casting his gaze over the mostly still forms arrayed around the courtyard as the fatman leavers himself to his feet. With Pinkerton's exhortation for speed he doesn't bother to question it, simply scurrying between the prone forms and relieving them of anything light and valuable, ending up with their combined coin purses, the daggers, and the two shortbows alongside the earlier liberated jeweled sword.
He is unfamiliar with the armor and whether it can be removed swiftly and so leaves it alone, hurrying with the spoils to collect his mule and load them into his pack saddle. "Figure it out later." he calls to Nexander as he examines the magical items. "I couldn't care less about clearing my name, but if those archers bring reinforcements I'd rather be elsewhere."
Hearing the urgency in Pinkerton's voice, Unafe says to Yakini, "You can go ahead and finish that one", pointing to the guard whos leg Yakini had bit off. "You're liable to get tired of nothing but dried catmeat over the next few weeks."
While Yakini digs into her breakfast, Unafe heads into the stable. Just as Halib had assured her, the mules are loaded up with the dried meat (and her few other possessions). After inspecting them, Unafe leads them out to Pinkerton's handlers. The mules shudder nervously when they see the dinosaur sloppily devouring the guard, but Unafe calms them as best she's able before handing them over to Pinkerton's handlers.
When Nexander asks about the unknown potion Unafe takes it. She swishes the it around, watching the patterns it makes and sniffing its aroma. "Huh, strange. I think this may be a vial of that Taldan ketchup that Francois served us back at the Mangy Gnoll."
"At any rate, I'm ready to go."
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As the others make their final preparations, Aluriel lays her hands on Unafe's arm, chanting something in what Unafe assumes is the Celestial tongue. Glowing runes circle about her briefly. Unafe feels a brief but intense itchy warmth as the gash on her cheek and arm fade away and she finds her health restored.
She nods to Aluriel. "Thank you. If it be the will of the ancestors, may it be long before any of us are next in need of healing."
Unafe
HP 21/21 | AC 19 (T 12, FF 17) | Fort +5, Ref +2, Will +8; +2 vs Fear and Death Effects
Totem Transformation: 1/2 times
Yakini
HP 24/24 | AC 19 (T 12, FF 17) | Fort +5, Ref +5, Will +2
The Hand bursts forth from one of the side doors, shield forth and blade firmly in hand. He carries a small boy on his back, the child seems to be scared out of his wits and is gripping the Hand's armor so tightly that his whole arm has gone white from the strain. Fresh blood drips from his blade and has splattered to form a dark red river a crossed the blackened landscape of his shield and armor.
"HALIB, HALIB! نحن تعرضوا للخيانة." The Large man wheels about interposing his shield between himself and the rest of the party, it is obvious by the way he holds it that he is leaving many vulnerable openings for attack just so he can protect his young charge. A look of anger and disgust plays a crossed his face.
Sasbrek scratches his head as his fellow spellcasters study and identify the items – his complete lack of arcane theory and study shows how little he knows about his own powers.
After years spent in the jungle, though, he packs fast: after Pinkerton pushes everyone to get ready and go, he is among the firsts to get to the stables, from where he emerges atop Kosshorx, the slightly larger giant gecko, and followed by Chief hrisskar. “I am ready to go, professor. Leave this men here for the scavengers!”
Hilde smiles at Unafe before heading into the manor to grab her pack. Already prepared to head out today, she is ready to go less than five minutes after the Professor joins them.
Once on the road, she comes over to Nexander to exam the wands. "You say the daggers are wands and that they inflict wounds with a touch? I am willing to use them and am probably able to do so without difficulty although I have no problem with your doing so if that is your wish."
"Good, you'll get more out of them than me. Mind if I hang onto the lesser one? It might be a good option for me should I ever get stuck in melee combat," Nexander asks, pulling out one of the daggers and handing it over to Aluriel.
Thorgrim sets quickly to preparing the pair of horses whose purchase he had secured mere days ago. Seeing The Hand in the courtyard as he emerges from the pens elicits an arched brow. There seems to be little in the way of aggression towards his new companions—varied and monstrous though some of them seem—so he makes no move to add any tension to the situation. The mighty Ulfen recalls the feasts of Eto, and The Hand's presence there. Thorgrim retrieves a tight roll of cloth from a saddlebag hanging from the larger of his two steeds—a light, dapple grey horse with wispy black hair. Wrapping the cloth about the spear wounds he sustained in the chaos moments prior, he finally elects to speak up to he whom shared a feast table with others here in weeks past.
"" His eyes are not accusatory; merely scrutinizing. Though he has little doubt that The Hand's interests do not line up with those of the Razmiran deceivers, he is unsure of how the man measures against the lure of abundant coinage.
"By all means, why don't you hold on to them both. It is difficult to imagine that I would want to use one when I could simply hit them with a weapon."
Aluriel watches Thorgrim and The Hand closely. While confident in Thorgrim's ability to handle any problems, she likes the locals no more than he.
With the morning's 'exercise' over with and the spoils of battle collected, the motley expedition can finally get underway. A group of no less than eight camels, four mules, three horses of varying sizes, two hunting dogs, and two giant geckos, not to mention the young Spinosaurus, Yakini, and the sapling Treant, Leafroot, they are an odd sight - for those few able to see them off. Halib, his son, and numerous servants see Pinkerton's expedition off, Halib looking worried at the morning's turn of events. It is not long, however, before the expedition is out of sight, and Halib can go relieve the added stress of the morning with a delicious slice of cake before getting onto more important, pressing matters that have cropped up.
<< | | | >>
As the morning dragged on, the expedition walked in relative silence - Though Pinkerton promised to explain the situation on the way, every time the topic was mentioned to him, he delayed, saying he'll explain it once they set up camp for the day. Even Osari, the young Osiriani boy who sat in front of Rhasadal on her camel, kept quiet - he knew something was wrong and felt tensions were high due to the morning's events.
The scenery did not help pass the time, either. Though able to see the looming mountain range known as the Pillars of the Sun to the south, the group had only sand and dirt to entertain their vision. After a few hours, rocks became more prevalent as the group moved into the hills at the base of the mountains, though there was no shortage of sand, either. By this this time, the heat had begun to wear down the group. The group took a five-minute break to allow everyone who wished to do so to take off their armor - though Pinkerton, Ibir, and Rhasadal, who had donned a suit of Darkleaf Cloth hide armor just as they were leaving, kept their armor on. Instead, Rhasadal, weaving symbols in the air with her hands and speaking words of magic, imbued a spell of protection onto a portion of the group with but a touch. Herself, Pinkerton, Ibir, Osari, Leafroot, and the five animal handlers suddenly seemed unaffected by the heat - and afterwards, the group continued on their way.
Finally, after eight hours of travel across sixteen miles of desert, finding a nice shady rock outcropping to camp under, Pinkerton calls for the group to stop and rest. With Aluriel, Gi'chak, The Hand, Unafe, and Yakini chafing under the heat of the sun, worn out and fatigued, the rest was welcomed. After an hour of putting up tents and tying down the animals, the group relaxed underneath the shade of Thorgrim's pavillion, finally able to cool themselves off and rejuvenate themselves with food and drink.
And finally, Pinkerton, was ready to explain the situation.
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(Fail)
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Ardeshir: Immune thanks to Fire Resistance
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Sasbrek: Immune thanks to Fire Resistance
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Aluriel will heal anyone on the verge of collapse (<4 hp remaining) throughout the day, until she's used her three CLW spells. Just because we must endure, doesn't mean we have to collapse and pass out. 8)
The hand will use his once a day ignore fatigue from one source to ignore the heatstroke each day. Still takes the non-lethal, Also he never takes off his armor so add in the minus 4 each time I should have more damage.
The Hand continues to move forward with his camel, not once complaining about the heat. His stoicism only matched by his will to move on.
Nexander doesn't complain much, but that's only because he doesn't talk much. It's clear that he's not a big fan of the open desert. He doesn't bother to wear his armor during the hottest part of the day, praying to whichever god will listen that they don't get attacked then.
He seems very glad to be in the pavilion, and drinks as much water as is available to him. He eagerly awaits Pinkerton's further explanation of events. What has that old white bastard gotten us into?
Thorgrim finds himself glad for the last minute investment he had made in purchasing the pavilion that now served as home to his new companions. They had not fared well on the trek here at all. Thorgrim's cold eyes regard those showing signs of exhaustion harshly. They know heat. They are of it. The sun knows them well, and they languish so easily beneath its embrace. Were it not such a ridiculous thought, it might anger Thorgrim to fathom himself in the company of such mewling kittens. He hails from a land of ice and snow, where a man loses his manhood if he is not careful when he pisses. For one such as he to weather the trip with little difficulty where others were so easily sapped? It defies reason.
His misgivings about the tenacity of his companions gives way to curiosity when Pinkerton finally deigns to inform his entourage with more intimate details of what awaits them. Thorgrim is glad for this; but a day out of Eto and he already tires of the surprises and vague allusions.
""
Sasbrek bites his tongue trying not to gloat, but still smiles a hideously petty smile when he sees most of his companions, so tall and strong and mighty in battle, suffer from the heat like babies. His scales are scalding hot to the touch, but his cold-blooded metabolism (and the might of dragons that runs in his veins) make him feel more alive than ever.
He is much, much more bothered by the light. His eyes are not made to withstand direct sunlight, and he ends up most sunsets with a splitting headache. Now, in the shade of the huge tent, his eyes have stopped watering.
“The planets will align in a short while… ξένος will be close to… oh, sorry, ξένος is the name of Aucturn The Stranger in the tongue of the Trueblood. This is important, I know it! tell us more!”
Inside the pavillion, the group sits on blankets in a circle around a central rock, used currently as a table for those to sit their drinks on. With the group assembled under the cool shade of Thogrim's pavillion, except Rhasadal, who sits outside basking in the sun, Osari, who naps, and the five animal handlers, each resting in their own tents, Pinkerton starts explaining the situation at last.
Looking around at the group, he sighs, and pulls out the scroll gleamed from this morning from the captain of the guard that assaulted Halib and the group. "This, " he holds it up, shaking it slightly, "Is an arrest warrant - apparently, each and every one of you under my employ is wanted for murder. My murder." He shakes his head in disbelief of the situation. "Obviously, this is a load of horsecrap - but.. it brings to light a grim turn of events. Considering that, as detailed in this warrant, proof of my demise was brought to the proper authorities.. " Pinkerton's face darkens as he brings about the bad news, "My forward expedition has been taken out - my decoy, who had been using illusion magic to disguise himself, likely had his corpse magically sculpted to look like me. Considering there was a survivor who turned you all in - with accurate descriptions of each of you, I might add - it is likely there was not only a spy in the forward expedition, but in Halib's manor, as well. Probably one of his servants - the blasted fool has too many of them. Even more proof for that theory is that the price on each of your heads coincides with the amount of money you were offered as a forward payment upon signing for me - meaning someone had to have been spying on us. Again, it points to one of those blasted servants of Halib's. The coordination needed for this was quite high.. and our enemies are just the ones to pull it off."
He coughs, before taking a drink of water so he can continue, "As for our enemies, you need to know more about them. I mentioned I had butted heads with them in the past. Their leader.. is an old colleague of mine - Gebralter Warris. He had been one of my Order's foremost experts on infiltration and subterfuge - not to mention a damned good tomb-raider to boot. During an expedition into the kingdom of Razmirian.. he went missing. When he finally returned three years later, he was a different man - obsessed with greed and power, and working to sell us out to his religion. In the end, he was cast out from the Order.. and he has plagued us ever since. He now seeks the very same knowledge I do - though for wholly different reasons. For him, it is a way to gain power, wealth, and prestige. That is why he is a threat - and that is why I needed skilled bodyguards such as yourselves."
"As for your situation as wanted criminals.. Halib is taking care of that. I don't believe the attack at the manor was to kill or capture me - though should that have happened, all the better to their cause. I believe it was to take out Halib.. who, though a fat, greedy, tub-of-lard himself who hasn't seen his feet in nearly a decade, does happen to be a very skilled lawyer. With the contracts each of you signed, he should not have much issue in clearing your names - hopefully it will be done before we return." He pauses, stroking his mustache and thinking a second on the subject. "This is why we needed to move fast. In all likelyhood, Warris's group is spreading wanted posters of yourselves like wildfire - it is only a matter of time before bounty hunters come after you - us. We should be safe from them if we can reach the expedition site.. it is not easy to get to without knowledge of it specifically."
Turning to Sasbrek, he speaks to the kobold, "That brings me to your question, Sasbrek. The aligning of Aucturn indeed is important. This.. this site.. can only be accessed once every 728 years. The fact is, is that this is a once in-a-life-time opportunity indeed! Even a long-lived person, such as Jack here, would not see the opportunity a second time. I do not know exactly why the aligning of Aucturn is linked to the sites appearance - nor do I know why it can only be accessed so rarely. All I know is.. my Order has been waiting a very long time for this. Would it not have been for the events in Ustalav.. we would have many more allies accompanying us right now."
"I do not know what allies Warris brings to the table.. beyond his cultists, obviously. We must be careful. I fear that the desert will be the least of our problems."
"Well, s!!!. I guess I should've expected something like this. We're all risking our lives, and you don't even know what you're looking for? As long as you pay, I suppose it doesn't matter....but damn..."
So we're being hunted by a living god, a madman and gods-know-what foul desert creatures. Nexander, you a damned fool.
Pinkerton's eyebrow raises at Nexander's comments. "By no means do I not know what I'm looking for, Nexander. Quite the contrary - it has the utmost significance to my Order. I simply do not know why Aucturn's aligning is linked so closely with the accessability of our destination, nor why so rarely it is accessable. However, I suspect it has something to do with the effect Aucturn's alignment has on the elementals in the region.. but that is just speculation. We'll find out in due time, I suspect."
The Hand sits and sips at his skin of water, sweat still glistens down his face in small runs following in the tracks of their earlier brethren. With a shrug he takes the news of his new companions wrongful accusation and near execution with the quiet dignity you have come to expect form the man when he is working, a far cry from the loud boisterous giant he had been only a few days before. Something about the trackless desert, the constant need to watch for danger, and the constant heat barring down seems to have triggered a change in the man; no one can say when or where it they first noticed it. Maybe it was that glint in his eyes, or the minute that his smile seemed to move to a permanent blankness; a face now devoid of life. All anyone can say is that the man seems ready for anything that comes, and somehow that is all the comfort anyone seems to need.
He breaks the silence for a few words that roll forth almost effortlessly, the practice and belief of true faith evident in every syllable. "We will find what is here... Kepri will reward our struggle." With no explanation he turns once more to his vigil, watching the far horizon for any sign of trouble.
Gi'chak is pleased when at last they are able to stop. The morning had passed well enough, but as the sun reached his zenith the heat finally started to get to him despite divesting himself of armor and other unnecessary burdens. He was made to soar through the trees of the jungles, not trudge through the sandy desert... He would have to find a different approach.
He assiduously avoids looking at the kobold and his paired lizards. He would not humble himself in that way... He had no experience with animals anyway. Tree's on the other hand... he turns his gaze to the Ghoran and her leafy companion. Perhaps... yes.
He hurries beneath the pavillion once it is set up and falls to the sand, sipping from his waterskin as the others gather and Pinkerton finally explains the content of the document that precipitated their hasty departure. "It is fake, yes?" he asks. Just as the soldiers had been fake certainly this warrant must be also. He didn't doubt that foul play had occurred, but wasn't that a more likely explanation? He cared little either way, as long as the trouble remained in Eto it would not affect him; he would continue south once he had fulfilled his contract to look for his siblings, he cared little for this country or it's laws. As to any bounty hunters, well... they would find G'iChak no easy mark.
Pinkerton shakes his head sadly at Gi'chak's question, a look of worry on his face. "No.. no I don't believe it is. I had looked it over during our journey for signs of forgery or deception, as I had suspected the same thing.. but unless it is so well forged that I cannot detect it, then it is legitimate. Though if any of you wish to examine it for yourselves, by all means, be my guest. There is, after all, only so much I can look over while riding a camel." He rolls up the scroll and places it on the central rock, should anyone wish to look it over themselves.
__________________________
<< | >>
As they hiked across the desert, Unafe found her feet dragging, the sweat stinging her eyes. Hisdelah Adeb had the good sense to go slow and stop early on days like this, making short progress rather than pushing his animals. Though it seems this Pinkerton has some reason for his urgency. Turning to Yakini and seeing her beleaguered expression, Unafe scratched the base of her bond-companion’s head spines, ”Mimi itabidi kujiandaa vizuri kwa ajili joto hili kesho, Yakini. Mimi ahadi.”
The mules seemed to be enduring the heat well enough anyway. Unafe created fresh water for them all to drink, and then trudged along in exhausted silence.
<< | >>
Unafe listens to Pinkerton without commenting. Warrants for capture and lawyers clearing names seem hard to relate to. She grits her teeth when she hears that a powerful Avistani is pursuing them, wishing their expedition to fail. She can see in Pinkerton's eyes that he considers this Warris a very real threat. There are too many things stacked against me already, she sighs, still weary from the walk in the hot sand. Failure follows me like a predator. Great Namane, will I fail you here again?
Her stewing is interrupted when she hears Pinkerton say more about their destination. She feels a cool shiver down her spine. ”a once in-a-life-time opportunity...the utmost significance to my Order”...maybe, finally, this will be the key that Old Aye sent me out to find?...if he really had a True vision at all...and if I don't fail again.
Shaking the doubt from her mind as best she’s able, Unafe places a hand on the back of the spinosaurus curled beside her and stands back up. She walks over to where the ghoran basks in the sun and extends her hand. ”Rhasadal. Nid ydym mewn gwirionedd wedi siarad eto ond mae'n amlwg i chi anrhydeddu'r hen ffyrdd hefyd. Ble ydych chi'n dod? Beth sy'n dod â chi yma?”
Aluriel perks up when Pinkerton seems about to detail the reason for his trip and simply relaxes when he goes off topic.
All will be revealed eventually. This is the man I've come to follow, I'm certain of it.
Gi'chak looks at the contract from his seat, but dismisses it with a grunt. Considering he neither knows the language, or indeed anything about the legal system of this land he will have to trust the professor's assessment. He remains beneath the pavilion until the sun begins to lower towards the horizon, and the day finally cools, but even then he wanders aimlessly around the tents, though he finds his feet carrying him often near the druid and her companion, Leafroot... His leafy branches seeming to call to the monkey goblin in this arid, flat landscape... There wasn't even anything he could climb on!
Sitting bowlegged on a small blanket set on the sand, Rhasadal looks almost as if to be meditating - though in reality, she is just basking the sun's warm glow. For a Ghoran, it is roughly the same as feasting on a hearty meal. Despite being out in the hottest part of the day, the druid seems completely unaffected by the heat, even going as far as enjoying it.
Leafroot, her treant, stands silently not far from her, combining the effect of basking in the sun and keeping vigil. It watches Unafe as she approaches, though neither moves nor makes any sort of gesture.
When Unafe holds her hand out in greeting to Rhasadal, she opens her eyes and looks curiously at the druid, either not understanding the gesture entirely or just taking a moment to process the greeting. After a few seconds, during which Unafe begins to feel awkward holding her hand out, Rhasadal finally reaches up and shakes Unafe's hand, smiling softly.
When she speaks, she speaks slowly, though clearly, as if taking a moment to think of each word individually before speaking it. "Rwy'n dod o tir i'r gorllewin. Henric dweud ei fod yn enw "Thuvia". Yr wyf yma oherwydd Henric yn. Os nad oedd yma, ni fyddwn i ddim yma chwaith."
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With the group unwinding after a long day's travel, each enjoys a meal of hardy trail rations, washed down with a drink of cool, refreshing, magically-summoned water. With the substantial breakfast given to her during the morning's skirmish, Yakini needs no provisions for the day, having thoroughly gorged herself on traitorous human flesh.
As the day winds down, Pinkerton recommends everyone gets to bed early; He, meanwhile, stays up in his tent, accompanied by Ibir, who stands outside, always on guard. Leafroot, not needing to sleep, patrols the perimeter alongside Rhasadal. Without a sun to bask in, she keeps herself moving, possibly contemplating something, or perhaps she is currently empty of thoughts - such is hard to tell with the blank look on her face.
Thanks to her presence, the group is able to sleep without having to set up watches - everyone is able to get a full night's rest, fully refreshing themselves after the day's gruesome heat.
For they have only the same to wake up to the next day.
<< | | | >>
As everyone wakes up from a surprisingly refreshing sleep, Pinkerton greets them, having apparently gone to bed later and woken up earlier than everyone else.
Getting up well before dawn, the group eats a small breakfast and packs up camp - everyone is ready to go well before dawn, and without further adieu, the group sets off - more sand and and rocks awaiting them.
<< >>
Trudging on, the sun having recently arisen on the horizon, the group continues as usual, the journey itself so far proving to be less than eventful - until now.
Jack, normally walking about thirty feet ahead of the group, speeds up momentarily, running up a large sand dune. He stands there for a second, surveying whatever view he sees, before disappearing over the other side. Less than a minute later, however, the group feels a rumbling beneath their feet and hears the sound of moving sand - accompanied a split second later by Jack's scream, which gets cut off almost as quick as it occured.
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"Y'all hear that? Could be an antlion, watch the ground!" Nexander cries as he draws Betsy and spurs his warhorse, Aga, up over the dune.
Hearing the sound of the only friend he has on this forsaken trip in trouble, the Hand spurs his camel into motion. Riding to the top of the dune, the hand dismounts and pulls his blade and shield, readying himself to save Jack from peril or avenge his life if it is too late for heroics.
Unafe tenses as she hears the sand and the screaming, yelling as she and Yakini run side by side up the hill...glancing nervously at the ground after hearing Nexander's warning.
Aluriel follows the group, drawing her polearm as she goes.
As the group runs, trots, or jogs up the hill, they are greeted with a horrible sight - instead of Antlions as Nexander predicted, they see a tangled mess of five spiked tentacles surrounding a massive, toothy maw jutting out of the sand, leaving a depression where it created a pit around itself. Blood stains the sand surrounding the beast - warm, fresh blood. The fate of Jack is gruesomely obvious - nothing but his bloodied, mangled arm sticks out of the beast's gullet, twisted in an unnatural position.
The beast, sensing the vibrations of the group running up the hill, lurches forward, burrowing underneath the sand - and likely coming straight for the companions.
<< | | | >>
One can 'hide' from a burrowed Dust Digger by being quiet and stepping softly - they sense vibrations in the earth, and use them to find their prey while burrowed. However, on the surface, they are able to see clearly enough, even in the dark, thanks to their darkvision.
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[ooc]INITATIVE
"Ye gods! I haven't seen something that f+~+ed since I walked in on grandma and the stable boy!" Nexander cries, reeling back in his saddle. "It must be a...."
The hand rushes forward towards the beast, hoping it will come out after him next and spare the others Jack's fate. "حان الآن الوحش. مواجهة جبروت بلدي."
The hand rushes forward towards the beast, hoping it will come out after him next and spare the others Jack's fate. "حان الآن الوحش. مواجهة جبروت بلدي."
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"...dust digger! A damned big one. Hold still and it'll have trouble seeing you while its under the sand. If it can it'll grab you and swallow you, keep a small weapon at hand to cut yourself out!" Nexander shouts, completing his brief but informative explanation.
Sasbrek watches from astride his gecko the elf getting gruesomely torn apart. His kobold insticts jump up: this is a predator, in an environment free of hiding places. There is not advantage of surprise, and no misleading tactics.
A true dragon will burn it to a crisp! says a voice in his head. but a Shivfang would flee. What would you do? his kobold part still in charge, Sasbrek waits to see if his companions get mauled too before deciding how to approach the fight.
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Seeing what had become of Jack made Thorgrim grimace, but the big man stayed silent, his voice likely to cause undue attention from the beast should he speak. Sitting on his horse, Vali, Thorgrim watches as The Hand charges forward, his massive, armored frame making enough noise as he runs down towards where the beast was last seen, likely to his own death.
Thorgrim would not have any of that. Should another put himself in harms way for the group, Thorgrim would be beside him - letting another man die this day would only hinder their chances at success. This man, at least, proves his worth with his courage - as reckless as it is.
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